Give a reason
by Sweet Venom
Summary: [Heavy Gear] Major Wallis faces the sudden end to his career


**Give a reason**

„I'll be waiting for you at the finish line, Major!" Marcus Rover taunted him over the intercom.

Wallis saw the bright red Jäger dash past him and growled angrily. That kid wouldn't get him, not again.

With some effort Wallis struggled himself free from Mount Aurora's deep snow and tore after the young pilot. At the moment, Vanguard and Dragons were neck to neck in the race for the top of Mount Aurora. Only a few metres separated him from the dragon leader, and Yoji and Rank were five minutes behind, gaining on them. All the other Dragons were too far off to help their leader. All he had to do was take down Marcus and victory would be his.

Major Wallis allowed himself a grim smile as his targeting system locked on to The Red Rover's V-engine. Savouring every moment, he levelled his autocannon to fire. There was no escape. The icy mountain slopes proved difficult, just as Wallis had pressed the trigger, young Marcus in front of him slipped. The autocannon rounds dug themselves deep into the ice of the wall in front of the fallen Gear.

Wallis cursed under his breath and heard the blood rushing in his ears with disappointment. Rover however got to his feet and disappeared around a corner of the winding path.

"You're luck won't save you every time, Rover" Wallis promised him, as he gave chase.

Large snowflakes had begun to fall. Heavily they began covering the ground, hiding the treacherous ice fields. Once before Wallis had slid back a few metres and landed in the deep snow. He doubled his watchfulness. The snow also impaired his vision, it was hard to make out the Gear in front of him, however his sensors were still able to pick it up quite clearly.

"No worries, Major" Yoji said on the private Vanguard channel, " If he makes it to that ridge before we do, I've prepared a little surprise for him."

"Excellent!" Wallis smiled adjusting his course to avoid a hidden ice field ahead. "Marcus Rover has defeated us the last time."

Finally Wallis left the deep mountain path and arrived at the mountainside, which hung over the path like an icy roof, giving the impression of a tunnel. To the left however the ground fell away steeply, falling down further than Wallis could see.

About one hundred meters ahead of him was Rover staying cautiously close to the mountain wall, now making very slow progress as he inched his way across this dangerous part of the course. Wallis heard Rank and Yoji arriving behind him.

"Let me take care of him for you, Sir." Her voice came, a sense of expectation and eagerness coming with it. She waited for a short nod from his side, signalling approval, then pressed a few controls in the panel in front of her.

Immediately a low rumbling noise was to be heard in the distance, growing continuously nearer. Rover stopped dead in his tracks ahead of them, apparently scanning his surroundings, then he turned on his heal and headed back down hill at a dead sprint.

"Yoji, what. . . ?" Wallis started, but then it became apparent just what was happening.

Obviously explosive charges had been driven deep into the never-melting ice of Mount Aurora and once set off, had started cracking the track below the Jäger's feet. From what must have started as a fine hair-line crack, a great chasm was growing, spreading along the slope as more and more ice crumbled and fell.

Wallis stood transfixed as he watched how the ice overhead started crashing down into the deep as Rover ran, slipping occasionally, nearly overbalancing and falling. The crack widened more and move, drawing aver nearer to the three Vanguards pilots' position.

"Sir," Yoji said, sounding not at all comfortable. "I think we should move, Sir."

Wallis showed no sign of moving, gazing in fascination at Rover's struggle for life.

"I-I've miscalculated, Major." She insisted, tugging on the King of Sting's arm. "We're not safe here, Sir."

Rover and the outlines of the crack were now only a mere fifty meters away.

Yoji signalled Rank to help her pull Wallis away, her Cheetah too small to move the much bigger Grizzly. Wallis however, only pulled his arms from their grasp, staring fixedly at the scene before his eyes, his face showing no emotion at all, except for a determination to watch this struggle, whatever end it might take.

Yoji and Rank stayed rooted to the spot for a few seconds, contemplation the possibilities, but then turned and ran, while Wallis stayed unmoveable, ever watching.

40 metres.

30 metres.

20.

10.

Marcus had nearly reached Wallis, his feet only inches from the deep, yawning crack. He made a last desperate dash and quickened his pace, running for the relative safety of the narrow ice pathway. Only Metres before colliding with the King of Sting, did he seem to notice the Gear.

"Watch out, Wallis!" The Major heard him calling like from a distance, but did not move, could not move.

Rover kicked off from the ground and leapt the last distance as the ground gave way under his feet, knocking Wallis off his own, sending them both sliding down the path, tumbling around hitting ice walls and each other's Gears. Sparks flew from damaged circuits, hissing angrily.

Without being able to brace himself, Wallis saw the steep slope below approaching.

He barely recognised Marcus trying to slow himself, by digging a vibro-dagger into the ice, but the rest of the world passed in a whirl of white and icy blue. At full speed, Wallis slipped over the edge of the twisting path and rolled down through the snow, colliding with hidden rocks as he fell. Wallis' elbow hit a control panel and he felt the bones break.

For a fleeting second, Wallis wondered if he'd ever hit the ground. The impact was so abrupt, that all the air was pressed out of his lungs.

Wallis felt something inside his body crack and shatter, but what exactly he could not tell as a wave of immeasurable pain and agony swept him away into merciful darkness.

* * *

The first thing Wallis became aware of, was that he seemed to be drifting, floating; he seemed absolutely weightless. The wonderful soaring sensation was all that filled his head, all that he cared about. He seemed to be flying , but where he could not tell.

For a moment, the possibility of death crossed his mind. Was it possible, that he had indeed died? He had never been a man, who believed in life after death, or other super-natural nonsense. But, he figured, if this was dying, it didn't feel too bad.

However, there was this buzzing sound, that seemed to focus in and out, like a defective radio. At first, it had been too faint for him to notice, now it was becoming clearer and clearer. Like the buzzing of a hundred angry insects. It took him a few moments to realize, that it weren't insects but voices talking. Urgent sounding voices.

He didn't care what they were saying, he didn't want to know. As much as he tried to ignore them, they slowly became clearer and more distinct. He could also hear the steady beeping of a monitor next to him, feel his hands rested on a cool sheet and his body sinking into a soft bed.

He came to the slow realisation, that he had to be lying in a hospital bed.

But why?

Even as he thought about this, he had a feeling that something terrible had happened, and that he'd rather not remember. What did it really matter? Couldn't he just lie in this comfortable bed forever, just pretending to be asleep? He was in no pain, he had no need for anything. No responsibility, not even for himself or . . his team.

Images flashed past Wallis' inner eye. The Mt. Aurora Tournament, Maddox calling out their names, himself and the rest of his team positioning themselves at the starting line, the Dragons going to an early lead.

Then suddenly Rover was at the ridge again. If the earlier pictures had been mere flashbacks, almost passing faster than Wallis could register them, this scene seemed unnaturally slow and vivid. The crack was expanding, threatening to swallow Rover. Finally, Rover leaping and colliding with his Gear, sending the two of them sliding, falling.

Wallis felt reminded of the flying sensation, however he had the feeling that had his dream or whatever it had been continued, it would not have ended as suddenly.

Again, Wallis became aware of the low voices sounding near his bed and finally realized that he knew one of them.

"So you punks're trying to tell me it's permanent?"

Wallis opened one eye carefully and winced as the bright light caused throbbing pain to errupt inside his head. As he got used to the sudden brightness he squinted across the room to where Yoji was talking to two men clad in green clothes, obviously doctors.

" We're very sorry, Miss Kirakowa . . ." The doctor broke off as he saw the scowl on her face. Somebody calling Yoji "Miss" would have been enough to earn anybody a trip to the med ward, however, Yoji seemed to be exercising immense self-control. The doctor however cleared his voice rather nervously, before he continued.

"My colleagues and I have all come to the same conclusion. There's nothing we can do."

With this, the two meds nodded and excused themselves while Yoji clenched a fist and watched them from the room. She then turned and made her way back to a chair beside Wallis's bed and sat down. Only when her eyes met his, did she notice he was awake.

Yoji jumped but then gave the faintest grin. "Should've known you'd be listening, Sir."

Wallis did not return the smile.

"What happened?" He noticed his own voice sounded unnaturally deep and raspy, he also felt a strong urge to cough.

Yoji shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "You . . .fell . . .Sir." It took her a long while to utter these three words, as if carefully contemplating each one of them before speaking.

Again, Wallis forced himself to speak, his throat strangely reluctant to produce the sound. "What then?"

Yoji eyed the screen monitoring his condition. "Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow, Sir, after you've had some rest."

"I mean it Yoji, fill me in . . . " Wallis said determinately, his last word resolving into a coughing fit. Yoji quickly helped him to some water from his bedside table.

As the attack subsided, he looked at her fixedly. Yoji obviously decided he would not be distracted, even though telling him was against her better judgement. She sighed deeply.

"It's been five days. The explosives caused more damage than intended. Rover knocked you over, and while he managed to hang onto the side the cliff, you went over the ege and fell several metres before a ridge stopped your fall. A fire broke out in your Gear cockpit. It took us a while to dig you out of the snow. Had we been there faster, maybe . . ."

Yoji broke off, eyeing Wallis intently. He nodded, signalling her to go on.

"Well, you were rescued and brought to Valeria hospital for treatment." She nodded to their surroundings. "They kept you in an artificial coma, while the docs mended your injuries. There were several burns on face and arms and also damage to the lung, but they'll heal completely."

Wallis understood, That was why he couldn't breathe or speak properly; breathing the hot fumes of the fire had burned the inside of his lungs. Even if he had been unconscious as the fire had started, he had a mental image of the smoke and heat filling the cockpit. But judging from the expression on his team mate's face,who had taken to watching her hands in her lap, that wasn't all.

"There were also some fractures, caused by the impact." She continued very quietly. "The right elbow and also one or two ribs. . . . I listened to the docs, but I didn't catch all of it. Them always talking in their medical babble . . ."

She now seemed desperate for a change of topic, if not for disappearing into thin air. Wallis felt a sense of foreboding. Yoji was always the straight forward type, it wasn't like her to skirt around the topic. He lost his patience.

"Get down to it Yoji!"

Now it was clear she was avoiding his eye. "When you fell, you also fractured your backbones. The docs say a splinter broke off at impact and severed the spinal cord above the 22nd or 23rd vertebrae. . . . I'm sorry, Sir." She ended.

Wallis blinked. "What does that mean?"

Yoji shifted again. "It means you'll most likely never be able to use your legs again."

Wallis gave a short harsh laugh and attempted to sit himself up against his pillows. "Nonsense" he wanted to say out aloud, but the word died on his lips.

At first he thought it was pain or weariness that were holding him down, but then he realised that he could not move, or even feel his legs. A surreal feeling was about the world, as Wallis stared incomprehensibly at his legs underneath the white hospital blankets. He could see them, they were undoubtedly there, but they seemed detached from him, not really a part of his body any more. Slowly he let himself sink back down into the pillow, eyes wide open, but not taking anything in.

"I . . ." Yoji started, feeling the need to say something, anything. Anything to fill the sudden silence.

"We'll make Rover pay for this, Sir. If the punk hadn't pushed you, nothing would've happened!" She suddenly burst out, her eyes full of fury. "He'll definitely pay for this, leave it to us!"

Wallis replied nothing.

* * *

_"Furthermore, there has been no more news from Major Drake Alexander Wallis III, who is recovering from severe injuries sustained in an accident during last week's Mt. Aurora tournament at the hospital of Valeria. His team has so far declined comment, but the doctors in charge of Major Wallis' treatment have assured me, he is out of danger. This is Bob Stonefire for the Novan Network signing off . . ."_

Wallis switched off the small trideoscreen in his room and laid the remote on his bedside table.

As soon as he had found the courage to watch the news, he had been confronted with images of the tournament and the accident. He saw cameradrones circling the smoking wreckage of his Grizzly, people frantically running around and sometimes short glimpses of himself, being carried away stained in his own blood.

Of course his injury was breaking news, it was on all the channels. But he was sure, it wouldn't last. Sure, there would be great commotion, when his condition became public, yet fame was something that didn't keep. The crowd roaming the streets forgot quickly. Soon he would be no more than a memory in their minds. A legend, maybe. A chapter in duelling history, perhaps. Major Wallis of the Northern Vanguard of Justice, who had held the title for nine cycles, but no more than that.

Wallis resisted the urge to scratch underneath a bandage on his arm, where the healing skin began to twinge and itch. It was ironic, when he thought about it. The relatively insignificant burns were causing him more discomfort than the injury to his spine. Wallis would have welcomed the pain, wished for some sign of life returning to his legs, but they remained as immobile as ever.

Instead, he returned to the letters that lay strewn over his bedclothes. Fan mail, wishing him a speedy recovery had started arriving by the crate as soon as he had regained conciousness. Earlier, before the last tournament, Wallis always had enjoyed answering the letters of his admirers.

Or so it had seemed to him.

If he was honest to himself, he wasn't too sure any more. Maybe, he had always accepted it as part of his duty. In the beginning of his career, he hadn't been happy about all the people looking to him as some sort of hero. It was the piloting, that had drawn him into the duelling arena, not the admiration.

When had he forgotten what a great feeling it was, when his Gear accelerated, performed any and every movement he wished for? That it moved, as he commanded it to do so? The honour in facing an equal opponent? The thrill of giving it all he had?

Just when had he become more concerned with the title and the fame connected with it? Why had he not even noticed this change in him? When had he started lying to himself?

Who was he, really?

Was he still Major Wallis of the Vanguard? How could he be, in this condition, being the cripple he was?

Losing the use of his legs, meant losing his ability to pilot. The doctors had confirmed, that it was virtually impossible that he would ever be able to walk again.

So who the hell was he?

* * *

Wallis stared out of the window over the never-sleeping streets of Valeria, as a nurse entered to change the sheets.

Wallis watched the streets slip by past the window of the transport. The streets, shops, humans, all seemed to be gleaming in unnaturally bright colours, hurting his eyes as he watched them. Yet he could not take his gaze off them.

They seemed to be enjoying a perfectly normal day, going about their everyday business as usual. No sudden change had come over their lives, neither were they expecting any change. He watched two children playing a game of catch near the road, laughing unconcernedly, not a worry in the world.

Just as Wallis was about to pass them, one of the boys tripped and fell over, scraping his leg. He began to cry as red blood starting rising from the wound.

Wallis turned in his seat to see what was happening. A young woman, maybe his mother, bent low over the knee and kissed it better. Then the scene vanished from his view.

He heard Serge clearing his throat from the front of the transport. Wallis knew, that with the old sniper, this was no attempt to start a conversation, and he was grateful for it, because at the moment he was in no mood for talking to anybody. Instead, he remained silent, and continued staring out of the window.

As they finally arrived at the Vanguard's training centre, Wallis reluctantly accepted Garpenlov helping him into a wheelchair and pushing him into the main building, in which the team's quarters were located.

Upon entering the Vanguard's trideo room, the heated discussion that had been going on before, suddenly faltered. Rank, Yoji and Groonz turned in unison to welcome their team captain.

Somebody – probably Groonz, in his, over-enthusiasm - had hung up a banner across the room. Untidy letters were scrawled across the material spelling the words "Welcome back Major Wallis"

Wallis felt the tiniest smile sneaking onto his face, only to die immediately as he saw the looks on the faces of his comrades. Instead of the expressions of he had expected, nervousness greeted him, and something akin to pity.

Wallis suddenly realised just how much their heads inclined to meet his eyes and he noticed how they were not really looking at him, but the chair in which he was sitting. He raised himself as much as he could, but there was no fooling the fact, that he was several inches smaller that he used to be.

Finally, Yoji spread her arms in a manner of welcome. "Here you go Sir, just like you left it. Kept a good watch over everything" She said rather uncertainly.

Wallis nodded shorty, while Groonz made a few steps forward.

"Good to have you back, Sir!"

From what Wallis could tell, they were being honest. They were sincerely happy to have him back at the base. However, Wallis could not help noticing their surreptitious glances towards his chair.

This, on it's own might have been understandable, even acceptable, but in addition, they were still talking in these hushed voices, very carefully choosing their words. It was the same feeling Wallis had had, as his team visited him in the hospital: as if they were making a deathbed visit. Also these forced smile. He felt bare under their looks, reduced to some mortally wounded animal.

Suddenly Wallis found it impossible to remain with them any longer.

"I'm going to return to my quarters." He said suddenly, his voice sounding harsher than he had intended.

"Sir, should we . . ?" Groonz started, but Wallis cut across him, gripping the wheels of his chair.

"No. Good night." He wished Garpenlov would finally let go of the handles.

As he tugged hard on the right wheel, Serge released the chair and stepped aside, in order to make way for his commanding officer.

Without looking at any of them Wallis left, rolling along the empty corridors alone.

In his quarters, Wallis began to unpack his travelling bag, putting unread books and unused clothes back into their places. Much more quickly than expected, the bag was empty. After staring at it absent-mindedly for a few seconds, he placed it in the wardrobe, closing the door.

Suddenly as the door swung shut, Wallis glimpsed himself in the full length mirror on the outside. There he was, covered in bandages, somewhat small and insignificant. Vulnerable. Helpless. Dependent.

He sat there looking at himself for a while, his thoughts chasing themselves in circles hopelessly.

The memory of the looks in his team members eyes still haunted him. They had always looked up to him, for his strength and skill, his leadership. Now, he laughed bitterly to himself, well, they'd just have to get used to looking down.

All the things they'd gone through, the hard work, the injuries, the daily training routines, the shame of losing tournaments. Yet there had been many good memories. The thrill of victory and the camaraderie were surly among these memorable events. But was that all he was supposed to live for now? Memories?

In spite of himself, Wallis felt the wish to indulge in old times, maybe forget some of the pressure that had been on him ever since he had woken up in that hospital bed. There was an old photo album somewhere in his room. Where had he put it?

His eyes swept across the room, finally finding the searched object. The leather bound album stood in a shelf beside his desk, unfortunately many inches from his reach.

Wallis scowled. What ever could have made him place it at such a ridiculous hight? Well, he remembered, standing, that shelf would have been eye-hight. Somewhere logical to put something treasured, a place where one could easily see and find the album.

Wallis was about to abandon the idea of looking through the album for a minute, but then thought better of it. He wasn't completely helpless! He was a Major of a Northern Guard and not used to giving up at the first sign of difficulties.

Determinedly, he rolled himself alongside of the desk, estimating the hight. A mere 80 centimetres, laughable. All he had to do was pull himself up, get the album, and then lower himself back down. How hard could that be?

He grasped the side of the shelf firmly, and then pulled. He even had difficulty to raise himself off the chair, his legs totally useless at supporting his weight. He loosened the grip of his one hand and placed it above the other.

Wallis felt the first beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. Slowly, he pulled himself up, his arm muscles protesting about the strain.

The album came nearer.

Wallis' face turned into a grimace, as sweat started running off his brow.

He was nearly there. Wallis made a grab for the book, once, twice. Unsuccessfully. He needed another 5 maybe 10 centimetres.

He mobilised all his strength and gained another few centimetres. His sweaty hands were staring to slip on the smooth wood of the shelf, it became harder and harder to hold on.

Another Five centimetres. Wallis muscles started to seize up and shake.

Now!

He let go of the sideboard with one hand and made a snatch for the book, but one hand could no longer hold his weight. Just as Wallis touched the back of the album, the fingers slid off and Wallis fell to the ground hard, knocking over the chair, as the back of his head made contact with the floor.

Wallis fought the urge to throw up as the world seemed to be spinning around him, but after a while it got better. He lay there on the floor panting.

Why was all of this happening? What had he done to deserve this? Why did he have to survive? What was the point if he couldn't even reach a simple book? Was it even worth it?

No answer came. With a shaking hand, he wiped some sweat out of his eyes.

Why not end it all?

His thoughts travelled to the regimental dagger that was part of his uniform. It was in the wardrobe, only a few inches away.

Slowly, Wallis extended his arm, attempted to crawl forward, but his arm was unwilling to obey his commands, unable to move. If anybody could see him now! The famous Major Wallis, not even able to end his miserable existence!

Finally, exhausted, Wallis lowered his head onto the carpet and shut his eyes.

* * *

Wallis saw before him a wide empty plain, green grass covered the ground, making everything seem very much alive and friendly. Wallis looked around in wonder. A clear blue sky stretched above him, not one cloud obscured the intense blue. Somehow this environment seemed strangely familiar, like an old childhood friend long forgotten.

Wallis grasped the wheels of his chair and pushed, propelling himself forward. It was easier that he had thought, rolling through the lung lush blades of grass, over the soft earth. He continued a while, breathing the sweetly scented air, enjoying the sunshine on his face and neck, until he heard a sound.

It was very faint, hardly possible to make out over the sound of the wind blowing softly. Although There was no way of being sure, he had the impression, that it was somebody sobbing nearby.

"Hello?" He said uncertainly.

There was no answer, but neither did the sound stop.

Wallis listened hard trying to make out the direction from where the sobs were coming. He rolled his chair slowly in the most likely direction. As he reached the top of a small hill, he finally located the source of the crying.

There was a boy slumped on the ground there, with his legs pulled up to his chest, looking no older than 15 cycles. His face was hidden behind an untidy brown fringe, but from the way his shoulders were shaking, Wallis could tell he was crying. The boy was dressed in shorts and a Shirt, hanging loosely on his skinny figure.

As Wallis drew nearer, his shadow began to fall over the boy, who jerked up immediately and frantically began wiping the tears from his eyes.

Wallis smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to startle you."

"I thought I was alone." The boy answered with a voice, uncharacteristically deep for his age. He still tried to cover his eyes with his hands to hide the fact that he had indeed been crying.

"I thought you might." Wallis said softly, purposely over-looking the dark stains the tears had left on the boy's shirt. He came to a rest at the boy's right side, looking over the landscape.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Sure. I was . . . I was just. . . " He broke off, sighing deeply. "I just needed to get away for a while, I guess."

"And from whom were you 'getting away'?"

"Nobody in particular. From the whole situation I think." He replied taking a deep breath.

"I know the feeling." Wallis said, smiling down at the younger, who was looking up to him with eyes slightly bloodshot from crying.

Wallis's eyes opened in astonishment as he saw the boy's face for the first time. It were the same blue eyes returning his gaze, exactly the same. He was indeed talking to a younger version of himself. He recovered quickly from his astonishment.

Young Drake didn't seemed to have noticed the change in Wallis' expression. He returned to staring at the green grass beneath them.

"Father just informed me, that he intends to send me to military school. He wants me to join the Northern Guard."

"Is that so?" Wallis said thoughtfully. He remembered this day. He had been shocked as his father had called him into his old-fashioned office. He had made him sit down opposite himself, on the other side of the heavy oaken desk, like somebody who had come on business matters. Then he had told him, that he was to leave the house the beginning of the next season.

He had been shattered. Leaving the house, meant leaving home, his parents, his fiends, everything he knew.

He hadn't argued back. He knew there was no point. When his father had made up his mind, there was no turning back. He had fled from the house into the wide fields that surrounded their house, and slumped down, crying the tears that had been burning in his eyes ever since his father had said the words.

His father hated him crying. He always said, his son needed to be strong. That was something Drake Alexander Wallis the second could expect from his son, somebody carrying his name.

"But I don't want to go!" Young Drake burst out, who had once again started shaking. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to be a soldier!"

"You know, I'm not sure it will be too bad" Wallis said soothingly as the younger version of himself dissolved into furious tears. "Sure, there will be times you will hate it, hard times, especially in the beginning, but it'll get better, it'll be fun."

"Are you sure?" came a tearful answer.

"Very." Wallis promised. "I've been to Military School myself. I think you'll come to like it there. I did. Eventually." He added with a smile.

"Really?"

"Really." Wallis said determinedly.

After a while, Drake managed to battle a feeble grin onto his face.

"And who are _you_ running away from?" he asked the grown up.

Wallis gave a small jump. "Well, I'm hardly running, am I?" he grinned, indicating his wheelchair. Drake suddenly gasped as he realized, how rude his comment must have sounded, but Wallis rested a reassuring hand on his younger self's shoulder. "But in essence you may be right. Perhaps I am running away."

For a while they sat in silence, till Drake stirred again.

"Uhm. May I ask . . how . . . ? What . . . ?"

"What happened to me?" Wallis asked and the boy nodded. He sighed deeply.

"It was an accident. A few days ago." Wallis told Drake about the events that had been troubling him the past few days. Somehow it was easy to talk about it, maybe because he was talking to himself. Suddenly the invisible weight on his shoulders begun to lift. ". . .And I broke my back and lost the use of my legs." He ended.

Drake looked up to him in awe. "And you can never pilot again?"

Wallis shook his head.

"Oh."

They were silent for a while, watching Helios go down behind a distant hill.

"You know what?" Drake finally said.

"Hmm?"

"You and me, we're in very similar situations. We've both had events happen in our lives, that are out of our control. Changes, that we didn't want to happen. But you've showed me, it doesn't necessarily have to be the end of the world. Maybe that's true for you, too."

"Hmm." Wallis eyed Drake intently for a while. Then a smile crept back onto his face. Maybe there was some truth in Drake's youthful innocence. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it isn't the end after all."

He turned his wheelchair around and began rolling back in the direction he had come from, while the younger him remained on the ground. But on his departure, the boy jumped up and called after him: "By the way I'm Drake. Drake Alexander Wallis. The third." He added as a sort of afterthought. "Who're you?"

Wallis turned again, to look in the 15 cycle old boy's eyes.

"It appears, I'm you. At a later time."

"Really?" Drake asked thoughtfully. "Then how come you're here? Are you dreaming?"

"I don't really know. Maybe."

Drake's face suddenly lit up. " But that means . . . Does that mean, I'll be a Gear Duellist?"

Wallis smiled broadly. "It certainly does."

Young Drake returned the smile and nodded. "Cool!"

* * *

The next day, Wallis rolled into the Gear hangar to find Yoji working on her Gear. He watched her for a while sitting on the Punk-Fu's shoulder, until she packed away the soldering iron and turned around, obviously having felt his presence.

"Problems?" He asked.

She shrugged and wiped off some sweat. "Not really. Just fixing one thing or another."

Wallis raised an eyebrow and looked up at her.

"I needed something to do." She shrugged reluctantly and climbed down, hopping to the floor from the knee joint.

"What's on your mind, Yoji?"

She sighed deeply.

"Rika's been to see me this morning. She's just temporarily placed me in command of the Vanguard" She looked very uncomfortable in this position. "But she made it clear, that this is no permanent arrangement. If your condition didn't improve within a few days she'll be looking for somebody else to put in command."

Wallis nodded acknowledgedly.

"I tried to persuade her to give you more time. Maybe some other doctors . . ."

Wallis put up a had to interrupt her. "The experts at Valeria Hospital say there's no chance that I'll improve."

Yoji gave a harsh laugh. "Experts!" She huffed. "Idiots. That's more like it."

"Give it a rest, Yoji." Wallis said firmly and Yoji fell silent. "I have just been to see Colonel Rika myself. I told her, the best choice for the new Vanguard Captain would be you. And in the end she agreed."

"But Sir . . ."

"_Furthermore_," he continued, "I have just handed in my resignation to the Tournament commission. It's official, Yoji, I'm gone. My congratulations, the Vanguard are all your's."

Yoji took his outstretched hand, though obviously very reluctantly, and shook it. There was no pride in her eyes, only bitter acceptance.

"Yoji, I expect to see the Vanguard give Rover and his team hell in the Arena." He said, keeping the grip on her hand and looking her in the eyes. "But only there, you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes Sir. . . . The Vanguard equals victory!"

Wallis loosened his grip and smiled. "Very good." He said and turned to Roll over to his Gear, which was standing in a corner, fully repaired. He stretched out a hand to pat the armour plating. The two of them were both battered and experienced in taking punishment. However, it appeared, that the Gear was much more easily mended than a human body.

Behind him, He could hear Yoji coming closer and clearing her throat.

"Sir? Can I ask you a question?"

Wallis turned his chair to face her. "Of course."

"Did you ever . . . I mean, have you ever regretted choosing this path?"

Wallis contemplated her for a few seconds, even though he wouldn't have needed that time to answer.

"No, never."

"Never?" she repeated unbelievingly.

"Not one moment."

With this Wallis turned and left the hangar, leaving Yoji standing alone.

End


End file.
